Raistlin's Daughter
by Skull Bearer
Summary: My take on the short story with the same name, showing, among other things, exactly why Dalamar wears black robes. Fifth in 'Ivory and Ebony' series.


_Dedicated to Miqael Archangel (Chetwynd), for inspiring this fic._

_Sequel to Engraven, fifth in the 'Ivory and Ebony' series._

_This fic takes place a few months after 'Engraven', Dalamar and Raistlin have made their way back to Wayreth to have the tablet examined, but to no avail. Dispirited, they have headed back to the nearest tavern to spend the night, the Wayward Inn._

**"Raistlin's Daughter"**

_Someone had to go this far  
I was born into this  
Everything turns to shit  
The boy that you loved is the man that you fear._

_Peel off all those eyes and crawl into the dark,  
You've poisoned all of your children to camouflage your scars  
Pray unto the splinters, pray unto your fear  
Pray your life was just a dream  
The cut that never heals  
Pray now baby, pray your life was just a dream_

_The world in my hands, there's no one left to hear you scream  
There's no one left for you_

_-Marilyn Manson, Man That You Fear._

The Wayward Inn might be a dark, shabby place, but even it was preferable to staying out in the freezing winter night. Located on the outskirts of the Tower of Wayreth, it offered the best shelter for those who, for one reason or another, were unable to enter the Guardian Forest. Dalamar wished for perhaps the fiftieth time that they weren't here. But he was unable to enter Wayreth until he had taken the Test, and Raistlin refused point-blank to leave the Dark elf and stay the night there himself. He'd known better than to even try to argue with his lover, so they had ended up here.

He was so tired, both in body and soul. The research in the Tower had yielded nothing. Raistlin had told him the tablet resisted any spells cast on it, although whether this was due to its age or because of some lingering magic on it they didn't know. To come this far for nothing was incredibly dispiriting, and and almost as wearying as the thought of long walk back they now had ahead of them. At least it was warm and the Gods only knew they had needed it. After hiking so many miles back to Wayreth in order to have the tablet examined, having the mages there fail to discover anything, then trekking all the way over here in order to spend the night, he felt defeated and oh so exhausted, and if he was tired, it probably didn't hold a candle to what his lover felt.

Dalamar shifted, trying not to jog the young mage. It had been hard enough to get here in the drving snow, and at first the innkeep had refused to allow them in. He had argued with the innkeeper until he gave them a room before finally getting themselves settled in one of the booths lining up the walls. It was a mark of how weak Raistlin felt that he simply curled up against Dalamar and fell asleep there and then.

Well, The Dark elf thought, there were worse places to be, although he wished people were more careful opening that door; it let in too much cold air. Almost as soon as he thought it, it happened again, the icy wind cutting straight through his clothes, Raistlin shivered against him. Dalamar turned to glare at whoever it was that had been responsible this time.

There was little to see of the newcomer's face, their clothing covered them from head to foot with only a thin sliver between the hood and scarf for their eyes. Judging by their slight build and the curves visible even under all that cloth, Dalamar guessed it was a woman, although he wasn't sure whether she was elven or human. He hoped it was the latter though, elves were never very accommodating to one of the darker paths. He watched as she too managed to gain a room in the run down inn, much to the delight of band of humans seated close by, who shouted loud cat-calls and lewd questions at the stranger.

Raistlin stirred, golden eyes blinking open and Dalamar felt another rush of irritation; bad enough his lover got barely enough sleep as it was, couldn't he even be allowed to rest now?

His feelings didn't improve as Raistlin pulled away and glanced around the room, catching sight of the newcomer before settling back to watch the situation develop. The newcomer demanded food and drink in a sharply accented voice that belayed no trace of the speaker's race or gender, before walking over to sit at a table in a darkened corner of the inn. A serving girl came over with a bowl of the inn's grey stew.

Dalamar wondered what any woman, or man for that matter, was doing alone in this part of Ansalon; if she had any escort they had yet to appear and he hadn't seen any sign of weaponry. He rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the stranger, didn't she have any sense?

Well, judging by the actions of the band of humans, she was about to learn a nasty lesson in why no one travelled alone these days, particularly unarmed females.

One of the humans -although now that he looked more closely, Dalamar could see more than a little goblin blood in the man's features- came over to the woman's table and made to sit down beside her. Whatever they said was lost even to Dalamar's sharp ears, but before long the stranger had lost her temper and thrown the stew in the man's face. The Dark elf sighed, was that woman asking for a slit throat? It was obvious what these men wanted and unless she had some kind of weapon under all that cloth then they were going to get it. Best she could do was trying not to annoy them and hope they let her go with her life.

The stranger got to her feet and asked the innkeeper for the key to her room, only to be followed by the man, now dripping stew all over the floor. Beside him, Dalamar saw Raistlin stand up and fought down a groan. He caught the young mage's robe and dragged him back down. "Are you insane?" he snarled softly.

Raistlin's face was carefully blank. "There is something strange about that woman."

Dalamar looked back at where one of the men was trying to haul the stranger upstairs. "I see nothing amiss."

"No, of course not." Raistlin stifled a cough and stood up again. "You don't have my eyes." He started towards the group.

Dalamar sighed, then got up. "Gods, Raistlin." He seemed to be saying that a lot. "Please don't get involved in this."

Raistlin didn't answer, and just made his way over to the gang of laughing men.

One of them saw the young mage approach. "Whaddya want? Shame to interrupt yer evening' over somethin' that ain't any of yer business. Unless, o'course, you wanna share some of the fun. If so, we'll lettya know when it's your turn."

"Thank you," Raistlin's voice was a low hiss, "but I'm not interested. I have some things to discuss with the young woman."

"Waitcha turn or we'll be taking a turn with you!" the ruffian shouted, lifting his arm to punch Raistlin. Dalamar stepped forwards, but before he'd gone three feet the man froze, eyes wide as saucers and arm still poised in the air.

Dalamar came closer and saw the hilt of Raistlin's dagger protruding from between the man's ribs. He lifted an eyebrow, impressed, he hadn't even seen his hand move.

The ruffian collapsed and Raistlin knelt to withdraw the dagger, wiping it on the dead man's clothing. "As I said, I have things to discuss with the young woman."

The rest of the group paused, and the stranger took the opportunity to bite her captor's hand and flee upstairs. Their sport gone and unsure about facing down the two mages, the men returned reluctantly to their table. Dalamar followed Raistlin up the stairs and down the corridor to the woman's room. The human mage pushed the door open and walked in. The woman was sitting on the bed and her head snapped up as they entered. She had taken off her scarf and Dalamar stared at her.

Even to elven standards, the woman was stunningly beautiful; she was human, as he had suspected, but surely no human's face could be so fine boned that it looked almost chiselled? And no human's hair could be that shade of shimmering silver, or hang in such a gleaming curtain around her perfect face? Her eyes were so black that it was impossible to distinguish iris from pupil, and glittered as though stars were trapped there. But somehow, despite her beauty, there was something about her that unnerved the Dark elf. He had never see anyone so beautiful, even Alhana Starbreeze, the elven princess, paled in comparison. Who _was_ this woman, and why was she travelling here, alone?

The woman had caught sight of Raistlin and was also staring, Dalamar could see the young mage reflected in those large eyes; golden skin, white hair, hourglass eyes. "What kind of human are you?" She whispered.

"I could ask you the same question." Raistlin's voice was as cold as the night outside.

"I- I am ordinary." she stammered.

The statement was so absurd that Dalamar was about to laugh, but what Raistlin said next stopped him dead and killed any amusement he had. "Ordinary!" The human stormed forward and snatched hold of her shoulder as she made a half-hearted attempt to rise. "Ordinary! In my hands I hold the most-" Raistlin choked back the words and glanced at Dalamar, then continued more calmly. "In my hands I hold the only woman I have seen in the past six months who does not age!"

Dalamar started as the words sunk in. He barely heard Raistlin as the mage told her what he meant. He knew of the curse that Par-Salian had placed on the young man, the curse that caused all things in his vision to wither and die. As far as he knew, he was the only one Raistlin knew who was untouched by the curse, due to his elven blood. The knowledge that anyone else could be was astounding.

She was not an elf, that was certain. Dalamar didn't like this turn of events at all, his unease deepened, and an irrational flash of jealousy shot through him.

"What are you?" Raistlin demanded.

"Human, like yourself. I thank you for saving me, but-"

Suddenly she froze, standing as still as the man the young mage had stabbed. Her black eyes were locked onto Raistlin's golden ones, and even from where he stood Dalamar could see her knuckles turning white as she clenched her hands.

"No." she whispered, horrified. "No!" This time the moan was a scream, and Raistlin was thrown back as if it had been a physical blow, crashing into the wall. The woman rose in a panic and fled from the room.

Dalamar blinked, what in the Abyss had just happened? He knelt down to help Raistlin to his feet. "Are you alright?"

Raistlin didn't answer, his eyes still fixed on the space where the woman had been.

* * *

Getting a stunned Raistlin back to their room was the easy part; the hard part was keeping him there. The mage paced restlessly up and down the room, fingers to his temples. Meanwhile Dalamar sat on the bed and watched him, unsure as to what to do or even what was bothering his lover. "Nuitari's dark, Raistlin, what is the matter?" Dalamar stood up and lay a hand against the mage's shoulder, trying to calm him.

To his shock, it had precisely the opposite effect, Raistlin spun around; "Don't touch me!" He shouted.

Dalamar stared at him, shock and anger boiling up inside him, "My apologies," he snarled. "Perhaps you'd like to be alone to think about your new... interest."

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth; once again he was being as big an idiot as that fool Caramon. Whoever that woman had been, it was stupid to think Raistlin would be interested in her when he hadn't shown the slightest interest in the opposite sex even before the Test.

"I'm sorry." Dalamar rubbed his forehead. "It's been a long day and-"

Raistlin shook his head. He didn't look angry, although he had every right to be, he looked... well, he looked almost scared.

"She did something to me." he murmured, as if he hadn't even heard the Dark elf. "She... I... she is magi, and she cast some kind of... enchantment on me."

Dalamar came up behind Raistlin, tenderly rubbing his shoulders. "Then we will find her and have her remove it."

"Please, don't touch me." Somehow the quiet plea hurt more than the shout ever had, especially when Raistlin shied out from under his hands. "Please, Dalamar... I cannot explain it... I cannot bear to have you touch me, to have anyone touch me... except for..."

"Except for what?" Dalamar started feeling sick.

"Except for... her." The last word was whispered so softly the Dark elf could almost pretend he hadn't heard it. He wished he hadn't.

Dalamar's face twisted, warping his handsome features into something truly ugly. "Then I will find her," he spat. "And she will remove it."

He turned to storm out of the door when he heard Raistlin's almost-inaudible whisper: "No need to look far, she's standing outside the door."

* * *

Dalamar threw open the door and confessed himself unsurprised to find that Raistlin had been right; the woman was waiting outside, although she nearly ran off at the look of fury on the Dark elf's face.

"Take that thing off," Dalamar spat, gesturing at the scarf she was again wearing around her face.

The woman stumbled in, keeping as far away from the Dark elf as possible. Dalamar closed the door and leant against it. If she wanted to get out again, she was going to have to risk a two-story plunge out of the window, he thought grimly.

Raistlin rounded on the woman, golden eyes flashing. "What have you done to me!" he snarled. "What spell have you cast upon me? Name it, that I may know how to break it!"

"No-no spell," she murmured, twisting her scarf in her hands, "I... I am no magi... I do not know... surely you can tell-"

"Damn you!" Raistlin was shouting and had grabbed hold of the woman's wrist. "You're lying! You have done something to me! You invaded my being! You live inside me! All I can think of you. All I see in my mind is your face. I cannot concentrate! My magic eludes me! I cannot..." Raistlin's voice trailed off and he looked over at Dalamar, again the Dark elf saw the flicker of fear in the young mage's hourglass eyes. "What have you done to me!"

Dalamar's teeth were bared as he wrestled with his own demons, fighting down stomach-twisting fear and a hate so black it eclipsed even Nuitari's dark moon. Hate at what she had dared to do, and fear at what she might take from him. From them both.

"You're hurting me!" She cried, trying to pull away from Raistlin's death-grip.

"And I will hurt you much worse if you do not tell us what you did!" Dalamar snarled. He would not let her take this from them. Never.

"I... I can't explain! Please, you must believe me. I didn't do this to you deliberately! I didn't mean for this to happen-"

"Then why did you come here, to my- to OUR- room?"

The woman's eyes went wide and she glanced at Dalamar with renewed fear, "You... you are magi... I hoped there might be some way... You might know-"

"-How to break the enchantment." Raistlin finished, his golden eyes narrowed. "So... you are telling the truth. It is happening to you. I see that now. That's the real reason you came here, isn't it? Somehow I have invaded you being as well."

The woman hung her head, "No... I mean yes... Well, partly... I did truly come here to see if there wasn't some way-"

"And tell us," Dalamar said through clenched teeth. "How we can remove a spell when we don't know what it was you cast?"

"It isn't a spell!"

"Then what is it?" Raistlin choked, and doubled over, coughing hoarsely.

Dalamar had left the door and prowled up towards her. His nails dug into the woman's white skin as he shook her like a rag doll. She was almost weightless, sharp bones digging into his hands. "What. Is. It?"

"I... I... I..." Her eyes darted towards Raistlin, now wiping blood from his lips, and back to Dalamar, who's eyes had narrowed to silver slits of rage.

"What are you!" the Dark elf demanded.

"I... I am Irda," she whispered.

"So grant me a wish," Dalamar said sarcastically. "Remove whatever enchantment you put on him and leave with it! Tell me the truth!"

Raistlin, who had watched the exchange quietly with an expression so calm it was almost... defeated, now spoke, his voice hoarse and rasping, "She is telling the truth."

Dalamar stared at him.

"She is not elven, or any other race I know. You know them as well as I do Dalamar, what could she be but Irda?"

The Dark elf released the woman, the Irda, reluctantly.

"Are you all right?" The anger had gone from Dalamar's voice as he looked over at Raistlin.

The human mage was slumped in his chair, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Irda, his voice was hoarse when he spoke. "What is your name?"

"Amberyl."

"Tell me, Amberyl, what is going to happen now?"

"I... I don't know, I've never heard for this happening to... to a human before."

"Then what happens when if happens to an Irda, if that is indeed what you are?"

"I..." Amberyl's black eyes darted towards Dalamar, "I will not speak, not while he is here."

Raistlin was silent for a moment, and Dalamar dug his nails into his palms until they bled. "Dalamar is going nowhere. You will speak with him in the room."

The words 'or else' hung in the air.

"No."

Raistlin closed his eyes, then opened them. "You will tell me, because you feel it like I do. At first I thought it was simply coincidence; after all, my cough always leaves me drained, but it is more than that, isn't it?"

Slowly, Amberyl nodded.

"But you will not tell me."

She shook her head.

"So... I am to die then."

Dalamar felt... well, horrified didn't even begin to cover it. The same twisted knotting weight he had felt in Haven and when he had thought Raistlin had failed his Test was tearing at him. His anger burnt black, mixed with an intolerable bone-deep heartsickness behind.

"No! No, no." The Irda's cry barely cut through the haze in Dalamar's mind. He looked at her, and saw her kneeling in from of Raistlin, his hand clasped in her own. The sight just added jealousy into the vile mix. "Because then I too would die."

"Then tell me, tell me what it is and how we might break this... this enchantment."

"I... I... I... Very well." Amberyl hung her head. "I- I must tell you about something about... the Valin."

"The what?" At any other time, Dalamar would have smiled at the almost eager look on Raistlin face, that even in the middle of all this the acquisition of knowledge still brought him pleasure. As it was, love tore at the Dark elf's heart until he thought he might scream.

"The Valin... It... It means... " Her eyes darted once again to Dalamar, "In you language... it means... it means... life-mate."

Raistlin closed his eyes.

Amberyl spoke faster, as if trying to stave off the inevitable moment where Dalamar would tear her apart. In truth, only the knowledge that such an action would probably kill Raistlin too kept the Dark elf from doing just that. "My... my race retreated from the world long ago, we fled back to where could live undisturbed... We... we are very long lived, but not immortal. We needed children for our race to survive... But there were never many of us, and as a race of loners we never... interacted... much. The elders saw that our race may well die out completely and established the... the Valin to make sure that young people... that they..."

Dalamar's hands were shaking. He could barely hear Raistlin questioning Amberyl. He stood still, struggling vainly to regain control, then interrupted: "And what can we do to get rid of this... this Valin." The last word was spat with such venom that Amberyl took a step back.

"I... I must bear your... his... child."

Again, Raistlin closed his eyes, and Dalamar knew perfectly well the feelings of disgust he must be suffering. Dalamar closed his own eyes and prayed to Nuitari that this was just a bad dream. It certainly seemed to him like a nightmare, to be so suddenly faced with losing... this... No, anything but this, please... Gods, why hadn't Raistlin just left Amberyl to those men? Couldn't she have taken him instead? Please, anything but this.

"Excuse us." Dalamar couldn't recognize his choked own voice as he marched across the room, grabbed hold of Raistlin's arm and hauled the mage -his lover!- out into the corridor, slamming the door behind them.

"Dalamar please..." Raistlin whispered. "I didn't want..."

The Dark elf caught Raistlin's face in his hands and pulled his head up to look him in the face. "No, you didn't. I know that as well as you do. You didn't know Raistlin, but I swore an oath to myself once, the night I told you about Tarsis. I swore that I would die before I would let anyone have you like they had me. And now it happens and I cannot do anything!"

Raistlin ran his fingers gently over the Dark elf's cheek, then kissed him. Dalamar could feel the effort it took him to fight against the Valin to do so, and felt the knot in his heart melt until he was fighting back tears.

"Please, stay out here, don't come in when..."

Dalamar looked at him, brushing one finger gently over Raistlin's hollow cheek, then shook his head. "I'm staying with you. The next few minutes are going to be... unpleasant for you, and the Gods only know I wished someone were with me when I was in Tarsis. No, I'm not moving from your side."

Raistlin gave a slow, twisted smile, a mockery of the one Dalamar so treasured. "Are you sure? I mean, in your position..."

Dalamar just looked at him, lifting one eyebrow.

"... I would do the same." Raistlin admitted.

* * *

Dalamar never told anyone about the next few minutes, he could barely recall it himself afterwards. He could remember stepping back inside and helping Raistlin undress, could remember screaming something at Amberyl when it was over and he was holding Raistlin, could remember watching the young mage choke on his own tears and cling to him once he had chased the Irda from the room. Could remember with prefect clarity stroking Raistlin's white hair, slowly coaxing the young mage off to sleep.

He never told anyone about that either, nor about what he did next.

He never told anyone about leaving Raistlin sleeping in Amberyl's room, knowing the human mage would not take well to awakening in a bed stinking of sex, and putting his cloak on before heading downstairs.

He never told anyone about how he learnt from the innkeep that Amberyl had left immediately after... after that, and how he had followed her out into the swiftly falling snow.

He never told anyone about how he had tracked her down a few miles from the inn, how he had run towards her, half-blinded by snow and his own tears of rage.

He never told anyone how he had torn that filthy scarf from her face and drawn his dagger from his belt.

He never told anyone how he had slit her throat from ear to ear, how his screams of fury had drowned out her screams of pain and his tears had flowed freely down his face, mixing with the blood that stained him.

He never told anyone how he had stabbed her in the stomach over and over again and killed whatever child had started to grow within her.

He never told anyone how he had torn her beautiful face to shreds and gouged out her enchanting black eyes until she was unrecognizable. How he, still screaming his impotent rage, had hacked at her body even after she was dead and left her soaking the snow bloody.

He never told anyone how he had left the snow to cover her body and walked, trembling, back to the inn, how he had washed the gore from the dagger blade before he had thrown away his own blood-soaked clothing and climbed into bed beside his still-sleeping lover.

He never told anyone.

Not even Raistlin.

_Skull Bearer._


End file.
